Ciao!

     The more I learn in the field of the culinary arts, the more I realize how little I really know.  Yesterday I was enlightened to the East African Berbere spice that packs quite a punch.  Today it is a little known Sicilian sauce used to baste grilled fish and meats.

     Salmoriglio was mentioned in a recipe for halibut that I was reading recently and I had absolutely no idea what it was.  But with the powers of the world wide web at my disposal I did some investigating and discovered that it has been used for centuries by Italians as well as other Mediterranean cultures to flavor their fish.  The name is derived from the word Salamioa, referring to the salty or briny nature of the easy to make sauce.

     Here's the recipe, courtesy of Mary Ann Esposito from Ciao Italia!:

Ingredients

Juice of 2 large lemons
1/2 cup Filippo Berio extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup hot water
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons minced parsley
1 teaspoon dried oregano
Fine sea salt to taste
Grinding black pepper

Directions

Combine all the ingredients except the salt and pepper in a medium size bowl and whisk until the ingredients are well blended. Add salt and pepper to taste. Keep refrigerated and use to baste grilled fish, meat or even poultry. Or pass it at the table as a condiment.
  
      I can't wait to try it this evening on some haddock I just purchased this morning!
    

Spicing it up

     Even the most humble of spice racks no doubt contain, in the classic words of Simon & Garfunkel, "parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme."  And the more adventuresome include things like pimenton and perhaps even some saffron.  And then there are blended spices for use on poultry and pork and fish.

     But I was caught off guard by an offering at Penzey's recently that provided a container of something I hadn't heard of previously.  Berbere spice has been introduced into their line of seasonings.  Upon further research I discovered that it is a blend of garlic, red pepper, cardamon, coriander, chili peppers, cloves, allspice, ginger, basil and cinnamon.  It is used extensively around the region of Africa's eastern horn and is an essential element in the soups and stews slow cooked by inhabitants of Ethiopia, Somalia and Djibouti.  It enhances the flavor of lentil soup, roasted vegetables and sauteed greens. 

     While it does sound intriguing I was also warned that it is very hot!  A little goes a long way to liven up mundane dishes.  Stay tuned for a full report.



A Misnomer

     One of the most familiar geographic desserts is actually a misnomer.  Boston Cream Pie isn't a pie at all, it is actually a cake.  It is a direct descendant of the Colonial "pudding-cake pie" known throughout New England and was first introduced at the famed Parker House Hotel in 1856 as the "Parker House Chocolate Cream Pie."

     It was the creation of a French chef at the hotel, a man by the name of Sanzian.  His talents were extraordinary as exemplified by his annual salary of $5,000.  A good chef in Bean Town at that time was earning about $8 a week or a little over $400 a year.  He planned and carried out grand meals at the hotel and was known for his impressive creations.  But no doubt the Boston Cream Pie was his best known success.  He simply took two layers of yellow sponge cake and filled in between them with vanilla custard then topped it all with a chocolate glaze.  And that simple recipe has endured and flourished.  It was so popular that it became a Betty Crocker box mix in 1958.  And in 1996 it became the official dessert of the Bay State.



Going Global

     Editor's Note:  Wednesday was a milestone for "Home, Home on the Range."  In just under 16 months there have now been over 10,000 page views from readers all over the world.  My thanks to you all for your interest in my culinary research.
                                                                                                                                          Vinny

 

     What is now a global phenomenon began as a lunch only promotional event in New York City in 1992.  Restaurant Week was originally considered a short-term money loser with a hopeful long term public relations benefit.  It was a good will gesture on the part of many Big Apple restaurants to the 15,000 reporters there covering the Democratic National Convention.  But now just over two decades later it has proven to be a Win-Win proposition for all concerned.

 

     For restaurateurs it is an opportunity to attract new customers during the customary seasonal slumps that occur in the restaurant industry. (In New York Restaurant Week is held twice a year, in January and July).  For customers it is a chance to experience fine dining at a modest price.  This has worked well, especially recently in the light of the recession when the public is more price sensitive.  Prix Fixe meals with a limited menu offers a good meal with no financial surprises.

 

     On Wednesday I went with another gourmand to the Legal Seafood franchise in King of Prussia to take part in the Main Line Restaurant Week celebration.  While I have a problem with King of Prussia being considered a part of the venerable Main Line, I did not have a problem with their luncheon $20 Prix Fixe menu.  Of the 3 appetizers listed I quickly chose the fried oysters.  They were at the same time succulent and crispy, and most importantly, fresh.  They had been shucked only minutes before being ever so lightly breaded and fried.  They were so good I was tempted to order another serving.  But that would have diminished my ability to enjoy the entree that I ordered from the three on the menu.  The Portuguese fisherman's stew was a tangy pool of saffron tomato broth in which whitefish, mussels and clams were swimming.  When I emptied the large bowl I wanted to wipe it clean with the warm roll that came with the meal.  But I had already eaten it.  As we finished our thrifty meal we were surprised with dessert delivered by the manager as a thank you for making our reservation on-line.  We thanked him profusely and then took the opportunity to ask him about the chain restaurant headquartered in Boston.  He told us their success is all about quality: of the food and of the service.  They strive to maintain a high level of both.  And it shows.  The place was filled with contented diners for a noon time repast.

 



 

Regional Delacies

     Stumbling along the Haymarket open air market was quite a revelation, but what I found along one side of the event on the Blackstone Block was truly amazing, and a little bit unnerving as well.  In addition to the stalls that sell fruit and produce every Friday and Saturday are a row of basement shops that I can only assume are open also throughout the week.  They are owned and operated by various ethnic groups that cater to the many immigrant residents of Boston.

 

     As I peeked down the stairs of one I was invited for a tour by a very gregarious Lebanese woman wearing a white butcher's apron.  She proudly showed me around the small subterranean market past the items like the freshly made baba ganoush and stuffed eggplant that people were ordering and enjoying at small tables.  We walked past the seafood on display and around the meat counter back to the walk in cooler.  Opening the door she showed off the freshly slaughtered goats for sale next to this sign:

 

     I was filled with incredulity.  But I was not prepared for what I saw next as I turned to find my way out of the store.  There in the cooler case were various animal parts for sale, some I could not recognize but others I could.  Beside each other were hoofs and heads, I can only assume from goats and other cloven animals.

 

     It never occurred to me that a roasted goat head would be considered a delicacy, but after some research I discovered that it is a prized meal in many parts of the world.  Here's what the Great Falls, Montana Prairie Star had to say in a recent column (Jan, 9, 2013):

     "Goats are one of the earliest domesticated animals.  They produce food, milk, hides, and fiber.  They are very important animals.  Goat head (is) traditionally cooked using onions, garlic, ginger, tomatoes, chilis, herbs and other seasonings...it may also be salted, smoked and dried for later use." 

     I can only assume that is what I saw in that cooler case.  Needless to say I did not purchase one for culinary research.  But if you'd like the recipe, just click on Goat Head.

Caveat Emptor

     Quite by accident I stumbled upon the Haymarket Square open air market on Friday afternoon as I was walking back from the Public Gardens in Boston.   It has been selling fruit, produce and fish from dawn to dusk every Friday and Saturday since the 1830's.  It has nothing of the glitz and polish of Quincy Market and Faneuil Hall and is not a tourist destination.  It isn't even listed on most of the traveler's guides of Bean Town.  But it is a favorite of immigrants and frugal Yankees alike and attracts thrifty deal seekers for miles around.



     As I strolled along the string of vendor's stalls I was amazed at the low prices.  I was even tempted to purchase some produce to take back home the next day.  The prices were easily half the cost of the chain mega marts.

 

     So how to they do it?  Well, first off Haymarket Square is not a farmers' market.  The vendors get their goods from wholesalers in Cambridge, across the Charles River.  What they sell is produce that has not been sold to the retail markets that week and needs to be cleared off their shelves to make way for new shipments arriving over the weekend.  So the wholesale people deeply discount the produce to the vendors who then truck it over to their stalls.  So it is clearly a "let the buyer beware" operation.  Is some of the fruit and produce old and tired looking?  Yes.  But with careful discrimination and a sharp eye those who shop carefully can find perfectly good food and save money at the same time.

     Now I'm not exactly sure how that works with the fish I saw on sale there...



Northern Comfort

     Whenever I have the opportunity I enjoy cooking up some classic comfort food.  New England Seafood Pie certainly fits into that category.  And what makes this northern comfort so appealing is its versatility.  There is no single recipe, but a plethora of them.  While they all include fish and shellfish, the determining factor is what is fresh and local from your favorite fish monger.  Whitefish, shrimp, scallops, oysters and even lobster can be added into the mix.

 

     And for the topping some favor mashed potatoes, others prefer a pie crust and still another version tops the pie with biscuits.  So be creative and settle in to some great northern comfort!

Indian Pudding

     After an evening meal of Boston scrod I ordered another iconic item, Indian Pudding.  My server described it as "pumpkin pie without the crust."  And she was accurate in her assessment.  It has been termed as lumpy brown mush, unappetizing to the eye but incredibly pleasing to the palate.  It is loosely correlated to the British hasty pudding of colonial days, a baked custard made with milk, cornmeal, molasses and butter with cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg added.

     I was so eager to sample it that I almost forgot to take a photograph.  Here's a half empty serving dish of my New England dessert:

National Historic Landmark

     Boston claims a lot of firsts.  The Union Oyster House is on the national historic landmark list as America's oldest restaurant, opening its doors in 1826.  But that is nearly a century after our own William Penn Inn began serving customers in 1714.  But I digress...

     I did enjoy a meal there in one of their 8 dining rooms that serves 500 people at a time.  Even with such large numbers the establishment still is able to maintain a small tavern atmosphere.  The epicenter of the place is the oyster bar located just off the entrance.  It is the same place that such notables as statesman Daniel Webster would stop by daily for a tumbler of brandy and numerous plates of raw oysters.

 



     The food was good and the service cordial.  After a round of grilled oysters I enjoyed my meal of scrod and mashed potatoes.  And for dessert, some Indian pudding.  More on that later...

Bean Town on my Mind



My culinary review of Boston will resume tomorrow.

Chowdahead

     I am officially a member of the Chowdahead Club.  Yes, that makes me a Chowdahead, I guess.  I paid my registration fee to attend the annual Great Chowder Cook-Off on June 1st in Newport, Rhode Island.  It is the original and longest running chowder championship in America, held at the Newport Yachting Center on America's Cup Avenue.

     With my admission I will be privileged to sample chowders from all across the country and participate in voting for the best in each of three categories: clam, seafood, and creative.  I can hardly wait! 

     To add to the festive atmosphere there will be live music, a clam bake chow down eating competition and culinary demonstrations.  And if that weren't enough, right next door is a companion event going on, the Newport Oyster Festival.

     Stay tuned for a full report.  After all, it's my culinary duty to give you all a full accounting of my experience.

3 of a kind

     While in Boston I had clam chowder, a lot of clam chowder.  And of course the preferred version there is the creamy New England style.  Unfortunately most of the chowder I consumed wasn't particularly memorable.  I understand that it is difficult to keep something like that fresh when it is simmered all day on the stove to be ready to serve at a moment's notice.  Real, authentic clam chowder takes time and needs to be made with fresh, not canned, ingredients.  Much of what I had was a poor imitation of the real thing, using pre-cut frozen potatoes and minced clams that hadn't been near the ocean for months, if not years.  The clam broth probably came out of a bottle, too.  And to add insult to injury more than one bowl had way too much flour as a thickening agent which strangled the essential flavor of the soup.

     Real clam chowder is made with only live hard shell clams that have been steamed to provide both a briny broth and tender, succulent clams.  Likewise, the onions, potatoes and salt pork (or bacon) should always be right from the market.  That way they naturally become thickening agents without having to resort to things like flour or cornstarch.

     While purists claim that the creamy New England chowder is the one and only, further south down the coast others opt for the tomato based Manhattan style.  It also commences with clam broth but then introduces tomatoes, oregano and crushed red pepper flakes into the mix, evidence of a Mediterranean influence.  Noted chef and food author James Beard is quoted as saying this on the subject, "...that rather horrendous soup called Manhattan clam chowder...resembles a vegetable soup that accidentally had some clams dropped into it."  And so the debate rages on.

 

     But there is also a third variety of clam chowder that doesn't employ either cream or tomato.  Rhode Island clam chowder is clear brothed and the least common but perhaps the most authentic of the earliest types of chowder.  It captures the essence of the clams and has nothing to mask the fresh sea flavors.

     It rained most of the day here on Friday.  It was a perfect day to make soup.  I pulled out my recipe for Rhode Island chowder and spent the morning in the kitchen slicing and dicing as my bread machine worked its magic with a loaf of another New England classic, Anadama bread.  The result was rewarding.  The chowder made a warming meal for friends and family.

 

    

Roll Call

     Some of the best things are created by accident.  And such is the case with a very famous dinner roll first baked at the Parker House Hotel in Boston in the 1870's.  It was there that one of the bakery chefs became exasperated by a demanding dinner patron and angrily tossed a sheet of unfinished dinner rolls into the oven.  The result was the classic roll that has taken on the name of the establishment.  They are crisp with a buttery exterior with a soft, tender crumb in the classic folded shape we have all come to know and enjoy.  But in 19th Century Boston they created quite a stir.  But soon Parker House Rolls were being shipped as far west as Chicago.

     Click on the highlighted name for the recipe.

Holy Cannoli!

     Hanover Street in Boston's North End is home to some of the finest Italian restaurants in the Western Hemisphere.  The food options are seemingly endless at the small osterias that line both sides of the street.  Following a sumptuous meal I decided to take a walk and savor in the ambiance of the area.  It was like a stroll through Florence that I had taken nearly a decade earlier.

 



     As I perused the menus of the restaurants I glanced across the street to see a cathedral to calories, Mike's Pastry.  I could not help but walk in the door to take a look at their edible artwork.  There in the display cases were all things Italian.  Marzipan, torrone, biscotti were there, made fresh just hours earlier.  Amid the traditional Italian pastries like il pasticiotto, boconotto and parigini were some of the most beautiful (and largest) cannoli that I had ever seen in my entire life.  And the choices seemed endless.  It was difficult to chose just one of their 17 different varieties.  But eventually I picked out one peanut butter flavored cannoli to take back to my room to have for dessert. 

 



     Calories?  I'm not going to even contemplate how many miles it would take to walk it off.



Past its Prime

    

     The sign outside says it all.  A restaurant that's been serving Bostonians and tourists since 1827.  It was originally owned by John Durgin and Eldridge Park and was located near Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market.  Serving up traditional New England-style fare in huge portions at long communal tables with checkered tablecloths, it was a popular, not to miss, venue when visiting Beantown.

 

 

     Unfortunately, the time honored restaurant has changed ownership numerous times, most recently being purchased by the Ark Restaurant Company, a large corporate entity.  No longer time honored, it has become time worn.  Known over the years for its surly, brassy "in your face" waitstaff, the kitsch of the place has disappeared.  And it shows.  My waitress didn't seem interested in providing any service, rude or otherwise.  She rather preferred to just stand by the open kitchen and lean against the counter.  It seems others have felt like me and on a Thursday night the dining area was more than half empty.



     And from the on-line reviews it appears that others maintain the same dim view of the food, describing it as "mediocre" and "flavorless."  I eagerly ordered the fried fisherman's plate and was disheartened by the way the seafood was smothered in a thick batter that tasted more like the fried dough of a funnel cake rather than a delicate enticement for the ocean's best.  Even the sample of Boston Baked Beans was a disappointment.  It was sadly nothing more than a can of Campbell's baked beans with some brown sugar and a drop of molasses.

 



     Like so many others, I went away feeling somehow that I was born too late to appreciate all that Durgin Park at one time was.

A Fish Story

     Take a look at the menu at virtually any coastal New England restaurant and no doubt you will find scrod.  But what it actually is has remained the subject of discussion and debate for over two hundred years.  And there are even serious differences as to what the term itself means.

     Most agree that is in reality an acronym and not a specific kind of fish, describing any number of whitefish that could appear on your plate, sort of a catch all (no pun intended) for the catch of the day.  So in advance of knowing what the local fishmonger might deliver, the restaurant would have scrod listed to cover their bases.  But there again, opinions vary as to what S.C.R.O.D. stands for.  Here are some of the possibilities:

Seaman's Catch Received on Deck

Small Cod Remaining on Dock

Select Catch Received on the Day

Special Catch Recorded on Day

 

   Others insist that the term originates from the Dutch word schroot, meaning "to cut off," or perhaps schrod, "to fillet."  Still another possible translation comes from the Cornish dialect referring to scrawed, a method of cooking fish where it is split, deboned then salted and dried for a day before being roasted in a hot pan with butter.

 

     So whether it is cod, haddock or some other whitefish, it is generally agreed upon that it is a small fish that has been splayed and filleted before cooking.  The end result is the same in any event.  It makes a delicious meal for those who like seafood.

 



A Real Meal

     In a gritty, blue collar section of South Boston sits Victoria's Diner.  It's not near any historical landmarks and tourists probably have no reason to stop in for a meal at 1024 Massachusetts Avenue.  Perhaps the only claim to fame is that it is just around the corner from the administrative headquarters of the Boston Fire Department.

 

     But the day I visited around noon it was bustling with activity, every seat at the counter was taken and most of the booths were full.  I was warmly greeted by the hostess and cheerfully given a menu by a young waitress.  It was indeed service with a smile, something that was noticeably absent from some of the posh places downtown.  I had learned of the place from a friend of the owners, Damian & Sheree Marciante, and went to meet them and give greetings from The Keystone State.  But it was their day off and I missed the opportunity to make their acquaintance.

 

     In looking over the brand new menu just initiated that day I found some old favorites and things with a new twist.  But being the traditionalist that I am I ordered up some clam chowder and a grilled Cuban sandwich for my meal.  It was honest to goodness, stick to your ribs good American food that didn't break the bank.  I lingered over my meal as I reviewed my city map and plotted my next adventure.  And with the kind advice of the waitress, eventually made my way to venerable Fenway Park.

Abbondanza!

     Still looking for my first good meal in Boston I consulted the travel guide in my room.  Among the eateries recommended was one called Giacomo's in the North End.  Firing up the GPS app on my iPad I discovered that it was literally just around the corner in the restaurant district of Little Italy.  But reading further I learned that they do not take either credit cards or reservations and that there is usually a line out the door waiting for a table, even on a week night.

 

     So I quickly made my way there at 5:30 and was fortunate to be seated at the last table available in the cramped dining room.  The place was indeed cozy and if you didn't know the diners sitting next to you when you sat down, you certainly did by the end of the meal.  There are only 42 seats in the small room that overlooks the open kitchen.  Everyone there can actually watch their meal being prepared and it is quite an experience.  I ordered the fruitta di mare, fruit of the sea, an amazing assortment of seafood served with linguine and red sauce.  Everything was cooked to perfection.  The shrimp and scallops were tender as were the mussels and clams, not rubbery from overcooking.  And the calamari was delicate, just like the chunks of fish.  It was a sumptuous feast and all for only $19.

 

     And just as the guide book warned, as I waddled my way out the door, there was a line down the street waiting for my table.



Historic Tourist Trap

     Faneuil Hall  was constructed in 1742 as Boston's first public market.  Farmers and merchants from the area used the facility to sell their produce and foodstuffs to the city's residents.  Eventually the building became inadequate for the demand and Quincy Market was built on a landfill to provide supplemental retail space in 1824.  (65% of Boston is built on landfill).  That seemed to suffice for over a century.  But then in the 1970's the meat and produce purveyors decided to move to larger and more modern facilities and the two buildings fell into disrepair.

     But with a combination of private and public funds developers resurrected the buildings, along with adjoining North and South Market and in 1976 was reopened.  Now the space is filled with more than 14 restaurants, 50 speciality shops and business offices.  There are 40 food court stalls offering a plethora of cuisines serving up gyros, lobster rolls, pizza, cupcakes, smoothies, wraps and even Philly Cheesesteaks.  But when I questioned the staff whether they were using Amoroso rolls with the steak sandwiches they just gave me a quizzical look.

     I went there immediately after checking in to my accommodations in the North End hoping to get an authentic Yankee meal.  But I was sorely disappointed to find little to entice my palate.  What I did find was store after store of National brands like Gap, Victoria's Secret, Starbucks, Crate & Barrel, Coach and even Harley-Davidson.  And the advertised "artisan pushcarts" were laden with nothing more than cheap trinkets made in China and stamped with the Bean Town moniker.  The food court was overcrowded with school kids and bus tour patrons.  Seating in the bi-level central rotunda was inadequate and there was no WiFi.  And to add insult to injury the adjacent parking garage charged the full daily rate of $39 after only 80 minutes.  The food was sadly reheated and woefully overpriced but the throng that packed the place didn't seem to mind.

     It was an ignominious beginning to my culinary exploration of historic Boston.

Bean Town

     Boston has the culinary nickname of "Bean Town."  Every restaurant in the city will no doubt have on it's menu a tribute to this dish.  But there are probably as many recipes for Boston Baked Beans as there are ethnic groups living there,  each one with their own version of the slow cooked beans.  The French have a cassoulet, the English pease porridge,  and the Italians pasta fagiole.

     The original recipe came from the native Americans who inhabited New England and cooked their beans in bear fat and maple syrup, placed in an earthenware pot that was set into the ground and covered with ash.  The colonial Puritans adapted this version to abide by their strict adherence to religious laws forbidding work of any kind, including cooking, on the Sabbath, from sundown Saturday to the same time on Sunday.  They would mix beans with molasses and bake them in a pot beginning early Saturday morning and leave it to cook slowly all day until being served that evening.  Leftovers would be eaten for breakfast and lunch on Sunday after being left in the still warm brick ovens overnight.

 

     It is interesting to note that Boston also has a connection to one of the main ingredients, molasses.  Cane sugar was shipped there from the West Indies to be converted into the gooey substance before being distilled into rum and sent back.  Stories are still told of the faint sweet aroma of molasses that lingers on hot summer days in the North End.  It was there that a 2.5 million gallon tank of the stuff exploded on January 15, 1919 and ran through the streets at 35 miles an hour, killing 21 people and injuring another 150.  For a photograph and more information of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919 click on the highlighted title and scroll down to the story.

     Here is an authentic recipe for Boston Baked Beans as found in The Union Oyster House Cookbook:

 

Ingredients
1 pound dried whit pea or Navy beans
3 ounces diced salt pork
1 cup diced onion
2 cups tomato juice
1 cup molasses
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon mustard
1 tablespoon garlic powder

1.  Cover beans with 2 quarts cold water and soak 12 hours or overnight.  Drain.
2.  Preheat oven to 325F.  In a large stock pot, cook salt pork over medium heat until rendered.
3.  Add the onion and cook until tender.  Add tomato juice, molasses, sugar, mustard, and garlic powder.  Mix well.  Add beans and enough water so that the beans are covered by about 1 inch of liquid.
4.  Bring to a boil, then remove from heat and place in the oven, covered.  Bake for 2 hours, stirring occasionally, or until beans are soft and sauce has thickened.  Add more liquid if beans begin to dry out.  If you'd like a slightly crusty top, remove the cover for the last half hour.

Serves 8

Just Desserts

     Before continuing on my culinary journey through New England, I'd like to mention something about a potential Philly favorite that I made for our Easter dinner dessert.  My ever expanding 3 ring binder of recipes has a section exclusively for desserts.  Although I am admittedly not a very good baker, I thought that the one titled Philadelphia Fruit Pizza looked particularly good, easy to make, and somewhat healthy, being that it has a lot of fresh fruit on top.

     So on Easter morn I began to assemble the components that I had already purchased to attempt this grande finale to our meal.  I got out all the fruit that was in the 'frig: kiwi, strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, blackberry, and some canned mandarin orange sections.  Everything received a good rinsing and I was ready to build the base.  While the Philadelphia Cream Cheese was softening on the counter I heated up the oven and prepared my spring form pan with parchment paper and carefully sliced up a roll of refrigerated sugar cookie dough and formed into into the bottom of the pan.  It baked according to directions and then was set out to cool completely.  Next I combined the softened cream cheese with some sugar and home made vanilla and whipped it up until smooth.  When the pizza "crust" was cool enough I applied the cream cheese mixture then artfully applied the fruit on top.  The final layer was a glaze made from apricot preserves and a little water then brushed carefully on each piece of fruit.

     The hard part was now complete.  All I had to do was find a place in the refrigerator to allow the pizza to chill for 2 hours. 

     It was indeed the crowning glory of the meal.  And yes, it did have 280 calories per slice and 13 grams of fat (6 of them saturated) and 210 mg of sodium.  But with the fruit it also provided lots of vitamin A & C, and iron, protein and fiber.  But it was a once a year special treat.  And you know what?  It tasted even better last night as a snack before bed!!!

Poquahock

     Last week I listed some of the foods unique to New England and I received more than one inquiry as to what exactly "stuffies" were.  My response was simple.  They are made from quahogs.  As you might imagine, that led to another question, "What are quahogs?"  Gee, I thought everyone knew that.
    
     It was over 4 decades ago that I was introduced to the edible marine bivalve mollusk that lives just below the sandy shores of the New England coastline.  It is the largest of a variety of hard clams that ranges from the miniscule countnecks through the littlenecks and topnecks to the cherrystone and finally the rather large quahog, or chowder clam.  I would head out with a clam rake at Point Judith to dig for them when I was a youth counselor at Camp Canonicus in Rhode Island, the same summer that Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.

      Quahogs are marine animals, yet they cannot survive in water with the salinity of the Atlantic Ocean and tend to live in the bays and shorelines  from Prince Edward Island to the Jersey shore, particularly Rhode Island where the waters are not as salty.  The name is derived from the Naragansett Indian word poquahock which translates as "wages" in English.  That is due to their value and worth, being used as money or wampum among certain Indian tribes in New England.  Many quahogs have distinctive shell patterns like the ones harvested along the shoreline in Wellfleet, MA.  Their lines are in a "W" pattern across the shell.

     Here is a recipe for you to try for Stuffed Spicy Quahogs, or "Stuffies"